Chiquito has mellow mornings and feisty mornings. This morning he was feisty, and managed to twist the bottle so it fit into the chain link like a puzzle piece…which he then yanked into the cage. I didn’t have my camera to capture his impersonation of a drunken sailor, but suffice it to say Chiquito had his own party. And his last bottle.

Chiquito with his last bottle.

But not too big to cuddle.

The past couple of weeks Chiquito had started masturbating while he was sucking on the bottle, and this behavior happened to coincide with the controversial Time Magazine cover of a three-year old nursing.I knew it was time. Chiquito’s a big boy now. Still dependent on us, but not a baby any more...which supports the data establishing spider monkey infancy and nursing as being from birth until around the age of two. He still likes to cuddle though.

We took Chiquito and Lolita to an unfamiliar spot today. Fortunately, we live on the edge of hundreds of hectares of jungle where the monkeys will eventually be released, so it's just a matter of us finding human access. And because we'd had several requests for videos instead of still shots, Paul manned the camcorder. I feel like the past four months have allowed me to know Chiquito as much as you can know a wild animal of a species other than your own. He's a sexually immature male, I'm his surrogate mother, and Lolita is his kid sister. More or less. So I asked Paul to keep filming regardless of what happened, and trusted that the monkeys would work things out. (That doesn't mean I'm comfortable when my head is the only thing between them...I wince noticeably in one of the videos.) Paul also got great footage, that I'll post to YouTube this week, of Chiquito swinging in the trees.

Lolita epitomizes cute and cuddly, and there are times when Paul and I have to make an effort to let her venture away from us and explore...when we'd rather be squeezing or snuggling her. Apparently adult spider monkeys find their babies as appealing as we do. "In a recent study of wild A. geoffroyi, there was a dramatic change in the rate at which females received embraces when they had young infants than at other times, and females without infants appeared to give embraces in order to gain access to infants (Slater et al, 2007)." Spider Monkeys; Behavior, Ecology and Evolution of the Genus Ateles, ed Christina J. Campbell, 2008. The findings don't surprise me. But it does make me wonder why humans go to such great lengths to remove body hair. Don't we want to be warm and fuzzy? I think it's a great look myself :-] (Victor Rodriguez graphics.)

Lolita is growing by leaps and bounces, and only waking up twice during the night (midnight and 4:00 AM) for a bottle now. There is still no sign of any permanent teeth, which I was hoping would help indicate her age...but if anyone knows when they erupt in spider monkeys, it hasn't been published in the scientific literature yet.

Surrogate monkey moms Brenda Sue Bombard at Refugio de Animales de Nosasa, and Vicki Coan of SIBU Sanctuary, graciously allowed me to spend time with them and their orphaned howler monkeys on two separate trips to Nosara. I wanted to do what they were doing, and two years of preparation and planning later, orphaned spider monkeys Chiquito and Lolita made me a surrogate monkey mom. Wildlife rehabilitation of most species is done with minimal human contact or "habituation," and takes weeks or, at most, months. But that's not possible with primates. The famous experiments that psychologist Harry Harlow conducted in the 1950s on maternal deprivation in rhesus monkeys were landmarks in both primatology and the evolving science of human attachment. “Harlow’s most famous experiment involved giving young rhesus monkeys a choice between two different ‘mothers.’ One was made of soft terrycloth, but provided no food. The other was made of wire, but provided food from an attached baby bottle. Harlow removed young monkeys from their natural mothers a few hours after birth and left them to be ‘raised’ by these mother surrogates. The experiment demonstrated that the baby monkeys spent significantly more time with their cloth mother than with their wire mother.

Harlow Center for Biological Psychology, University of Wisconsin

"These data make it obvious that contact comfort is a variable of overwhelming importance in the development of affectional response." Harlow (1958).

In one of his later experiments, Harlow demonstrated that young monkeys would also turn to their cloth surrogate mother for comfort and security. Using a strange situation, Harlow allowed the young monkeys to explore a room either in the presence of their surrogate mother or in her absence. Monkeys in the presence of their mother would use her as a secure base to explore the room. When the surrogate mothers were removed from the room, the effects were dramatic. The young monkeys no longer had their secure base to explore the room and would often freeze up, crouch, rock, scream, and cry.” Wikipedia

Lolita and Chiquito want physical or visual contact with me.

Harlow’s work helped influence key changes in how orphanages, adoption agencies, and social services approached the care of children. Today his work is applicable to the rearing of orphaned monkeys for successful rehabilitation and release. I love being a surrogate monkey mom, but I can't wait to be a non-surrogate monkey grandmother.

Today was Chiquito's wildest - and best - day at the river. But the most nerve-wracking for me, and probably not much fun for Lolita, because Chiquito didn't want to share. Food or Mom. First he reached out and took the peanuts and raisins out of Lolita's mouth. Then he put his face up to hers and ate them out of her mouth. Finally, he grabbed her by the tail and tried to yank her off my arm. Lolita gave up the food without complaint, but she wasn't about to let go of me. I let them squawk it out between themselves, resigned to the fact that I'd be the one in the middle who got bitten. (My mother used to say "someone's going to end up crying" in similar situations.) But no blood was shed.

Taking the peanut out of Lolita's mouth.

Eating the peanut out of Lolita's mouth.

Trying to yank Lolita off me by her tail.

The thing about interacting with monkeys is that you know your time is coming. Monkeys bite. And Chiquito was wired. He moved through the trees like he never has before. Like a monkey should. But he didn't want to play alone and Lolita was having nothing to do with him. Chiquito swung at me from behind. Hard. And I took a header. During the rainy season the "path" is wet red mud, littered with slippery leaves. Paul wasn't there to help, or to capture the moment on film. Because ironically, I had just said, "let's leave now and end this outing on a high note" and he'd gone back to the river to retrieve Chiquito's leash, which had been left behind. As I fell forward Chiquito somersaulted over my head and landed beneath me on his back . We were face to face when I reached out to catch myself (Lolita still clinging to my left arm) and planted my right hand on Chiquito's chest, pinning him to the ground. I had broken the cardinal monkey rule. The only other thing I remember is closing my eyes. When Paul returned he asked why there was mud all over Chiquito's back. He didn't notice the red mud on the knee of my pale green pants. Or that my hair was unusually disheveled. But Chiquito had played fair. Since he was the one who knocked me down, perhaps he accepted the consequences? We were both just a little muddier for the experience.

A couple of weeks ago I went to one of my favorite viveros (nurseries). It's owned by a wonderful couple and, while waiting for help from the husband, I noticed a parrot tucked away in a cage. I asked if it could fly (yes!), how old it was (still young!), and if they wanted it to be released (yes!). When I left, I had the parrot and cage in my van. Constructing an aviary is on our short "To Do" list since we're approved to rehabilitate primates and birds, but I expected to start with hatchlings in the incubator and have time to build. Long story short, our neighbors Dave and Valentina put the crimson-fronted parrot in the large habitat with their African Gray so it could build up strength in its wing muscles. And then they introduced me to Rodolfo at The Macaw Sanctuary in Puntarenas (an hour-and-a-half away), where they rehabilitate and release macaws...as well as other native parrots! http://www.santuariolapas.com/index.html

Scarlet macaws.

Yesterday Valentina and I drove the parrot to Sanctuario Lapas el Manantial. It's a magical place (tours are available in English for $15...and be sure to pack a lunch if you don't mind macaws on the picnic table) and they have several mammal species including sloths, tapirs...and spider monkeys! I spoke with Rodolfo about their three spider monkeys, and he said that while there are general monkey rules, each one is an individual. I was shocked when he said their male loves him but is vicious with other men, and likes women. He was equally surprised to hear that Chiquito likes all men, but that I'm the only female he's comfortable with. Their male is three and Chiquito is two, so neither of them is sexually mature. Different life experiences have shaped who they trust.

"The original Ateles taxonomy of Kellogg and Goldman (1944) is based primarily on variations in pelage augmented by cranial and body size measurements. As initially described by Kellogg and Goldman, the possession of dark black heads, hands and wrists unites the subspecies of A. geoffroyi. A. g. geoffroyi is silvery to brownish - gray on the back and chest, while the abdomen may be somehwhat golden (Konstant et al., 1985). A. g. frontatus is very similar to A. g. geoffroyi, but slightly darker (Konstant et al., 1985). A. g. ornatus has a golden back and underside with dark black head, face, forearms, and outer legs (Konstant et al., 1985)." Spider Monkeys; Behavior, Ecology and Evolution of the Genus Ateles, ed Christina J. Campbell, 2008)

I'm always trying to find ways to enrich Chiquito's cage experience. Last week I spotted a large wooden spool for sale on the sidewalk outside an electrical store and thought it would make a great "table" for Chiquito to sit on. Chiquito thought it would be fun to turn on its side and roll around the cage. Which would have been fine...except that it weighs 52 pounds and we were afraid he'd break the door with it. (Yes, Chiquito weighs 12 pounds. The spool weighs 52 pounds. And Chiquito can do a hanging one arm deadlift with it, for anyone familiar with power-lifting.)

52 pound wooden spool.

So today when I was driving home from Sanctuario Lapas el Manantial [see May 4th diary entry] and saw a small wooden sign by the road that said "Hamacas 500 meters" I thought "Hey, I'll get Chiquito a hammock!" I slowed down and pulled in. Hamaca does indeed translate to hammock, and they had three sizes. Double, single - and baby! So I bought Chiquito a baby-sized hammock (Goldilocks would approve) for $16 and couldn't wait to hang it. I even made a trip back to town to get galvanized clips at Jorcel's. In retrospect, two questions come to mind. 1) Who would buy a hammock for a baby (or even a child)? It's hard enough for an adult not to flip one and do a face plant. 2) Who would buy a hammock for a monkey? Did I expect Chiquito to recline on his back with his hands behind his head? Fortunately, Chiquito is enjoying the hammock. In his own way.

Michele Gawenka

Jane Goodall has always been my hero, and working with primates an aspiration. Africa wasn't in the cards the summer I turned 16, when my parents offered to send me to volunteer, and there was only one class (in physical anthro-pology) when I wanted to study primatology in college. Decades later my husband and I retired in Costa Rica, and this is our journey with spider (and howler) monkeys.